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Repertory Plays 



James and John „ 

% Gilbert Cannan 



Le^qYPnillips,^Q.g^o/? 



JAMES AND JOHN 



A PLAY IN ONE ACT 



BY 

GILBERT CANNAN 



Boston 

LE ROY PHILLIPS 

Publisher 



\5 



PLAYS BY GILBERT CANNAN 

JAMES AND JOHN - - - - ong act. 
MILES DIXON - - - - -two acts. 
MARY'S WEDDING - - - - one act. 
A SHORT WAY WITH AUTHORS, one act. 



All rights reserved 

Entered in the Library of Congress on July 25. 1913 

Copyright, 1920 

Le Roy Phillips 

©C1A564899 



I- 



Produced at the Haymarket Theatre, 
March, 1910. 

John Betts . - - Mr. H. R. Hignett. 

James Betts - - - Mr. Fisher White. 

Mrs. Betts - . - Miss Helen Haye. 

Mr, Betts - - - Mr. James Hearn. 



CHARACTERS 

John Belts 
James Belts 
Mrs. Bells 
Mr. Belts 

Scene: Their parlour. 



JAMES AND JOHN 

// is half past nine of an evening and the scene is 
the parlour of a little house in a gaunt row 
of houses in a street in a London suburb. By 
the fireplace at the hack james and john 
BETTS are playing backgammon, the board on 
a little table between them. They are both grey. 
JAMES has a beard, john is clean-shaven. 
JOHN wears glasses. Both wear morning- 
coats and both have carpet slippers, james 
smokes, JOHN does not. john has a glass of 
whisky on the mantelpiece within reach: 
JAMES is teetotal. They are absorbed in their 
game and pay no attention to their mother, a 
stout old lady who is sitting in her chair 
reading a novel, sleeping, and knitting. Her 
chair is by another little table on which the 
solitary lamp of the room is placed so as to 
cast its light on her book. She is directly in 
front of the fire so that her back is towards the 
audience, john is sitting with his back towards 
her. 

The room is ugly and Mid-Victorian. Its door is 
to the right. Its window to the left. In the 
window is a stand of miserable-looking ferns 
and an india-rubber plant. 



6 JAMES AND JOHN 

JAMES 

[Looking up, abruptly.] Very nice. I think I shall 
gammon you, John. 

H'm. J°»^ 

[He rattles the dice furiously, seeing the 
game go against him. 

JOHN 

[ Triumphantly.] I take you there and there . . . 

JAMES 

We shall see. [Silence. 

MRS. BETTS 

Did you say it was raining when you came in, 
John.? 

JOHN 

[Turning irritably.] I have said so four times. 

[Silence. They devote themselves to their 
game again. 

MRS. BETTS 

[Plaintively, as though she knew full well that her 
remarks would fall on deaf ears. She lays 
down her book.] This isn't a very interesting 
book. ... I don't think books are so inter- 
esting as they used to be . . . they all seem 
to be trying to be like real life. ... I must 
say I like to know who marries who . . . 
and I don't like stories about married life. 
... I suppose the authors must be thinking 
of their own. . . . Depressing. . . . You 
haven't said how you like my new cap, 
Jamie. . . . 



JAMES AND JOHN 7 

MRS. BETTS 

You did say it was raining, John? 

[No answer — only a frenzied rattle of the dice. 
I don't think anything has happened. . . . 
The next-door people have had trouble with 
the servant again. ... A thief this one. 
... I wonder if it is raining. ... I wouldn't 
like it to be wet for him. . . . 

[jAMES and JOHN look at each other and 
JAMES looks over at his mother. She is 
fumbling for her handkerchief. 

JOHN 

Gammon. . . . 

[He rises and looks down at his brother in 
triumph. Each takes a little note-book 
from his pocket and makes a note of the 
game. 

JAMES 

I still lead by two hundred and twenty-three 
games. . . . 

[mrs. BETTS is wiping her eyes and snuffling. 
JOHN goes to her and pats her shoulder 
kindly. 

JOHN 

Would you like a game, mamma .^ . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

No — no-0-0 ... I couldn't — not to-night. . . . 

JAMES 

I thought we had agreed not to talk of it nor to 
think of it. . . . 



8 JAMES AND JOHN 

MRS. BETTS 

It — it is all very well for you boys to talk . . . 
b-b-but ... I can't help but remember 
... all these years , . . 

JOHN 

Shall Jamie read to you, mamma.'* 

MRS. BETTS 

It — it was so — so dreadful . . . 

JAMES 

Yes, yes, mamma. . . . But we agreed that we 
would . . . 

MRS, BETTS 

It all comes back to me so. . . . The whole 
thing. ... I suppose they never talk of it 
at the bank now, Jamie . . J 

JAMES 

[Exploding.] I wish to God he had never lived 
to come back again . . . 

JOHN 

Tssh! — Tssh! . . . 

JAMES 

I say that he has ruined mamma's life, and your 
life and mine. ... I say again that I wish 
to God he had never lived to come back. , . . 

JOHN 

Think of mamma. . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

Your own father . . . [She weeps. 



JAMES AND JOHN 9 

JAMES 

It is against my wish that he is allowed to come 
here at all. . . . 

JOHN 

Do let us try to forget the whole affair until ... 

until he comes. . . . Don't you think it 

would be better if you went to bed, mamma.? 

[jAMES has fallen to pacing up and down the 

room. 

MRS. BETTS 

No; I must stay ... to ... to see him . . . 

JOHN 

You must be brave, then . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

[Making an effort and gulping down her sobs. 
Ye-yes. . . . [She takes John's hand and 
pats it, while she anxiously tries to watch 
JAMES in his pacing.] But, John . . . I'm 
afraid — afraid of Jamie. . . . 

[She says this almost in a whisper hut james 
hears her. He stops by the fireplace and 
stands with his back to the fire and glares 
at his mother. 

JAMES 

I am, I hope, a just man . . . 

JOHN 

We have argued enough. . . . We must wait. 
. . . We can't have mamma breaking down 
before he comes. . . . 



10 JAMES AND JOHN 

JAMES 

John, you're a soft fool. . . . This man has done 
us all an injury. ... He has brought misery 
upon this house. . . . He has no other 
place to which to turn: for a while he may 
rest under our roof. ... Is that understood .? 

JOHN 

Quite. . . . Can't you leave it alone .^ 

JAMES 

I wish to make myself clearly understood. . . . 

JOHN 

I think we both understand you . . . and you 
need not speak so loud. 

JAMES 

There must be no sentiment and he must be 
made to understand the terms on which I 
have consented to receive him. . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

We — we must be kind, Jamie — we must be 
kind. ... He was always a kind man . . . 

JAMES 

Kind! . . . To treat you in the way he did — 
and you can call him kind. Oh! the foolish- 
ness of women. . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

He was never a bad man. ... Is it raining, 
John.? 

[jOHN goes to the window and peeps out. 

JOHN 

Yes, mamma, it is raining. 



JAMES AND JOHN n 

MRS. BETTS 

Oh! ... It isn't too late for one of you to meet 
him at the station ... is it? 

JAMES 

You know that that is impossible. ... It is 
enough that he is permitted to come here at 
all. ... It is my house. . . . The ordermg 
of this affair is in my hands. . . . Let it 
be . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

He has been punished enough for his sin. . . . 

JAMES 

We have been punished. / have been punished. 
. Year after year I have been passed 
over and men younger than myself have 
been promoted. ... For years I was^ made 
to feel that my continued presence in the 
bank was an act of charity. ... For years 
I have felt rather than heard the miserable 
story whispered to every raw lad who came 
to the place . . . and suffered . . . because 
my father betrayed his trust. . . . And you 
say he was not a bad man . . . 

JOHN 

Jamie — Jamie — 

[mrs. BETTS heats feebly with her hands 
against him. 

JAMES 

Jamie! — Jamie! — Well enough for you, John 
— you were out of it. . . . 



12 JAMES AND JOHN 

[jOHN folds his arms as though he realised 
the hopelessness of endeavouring to stem the 
stream of his brother^ s indignation, and to 
indicate that he also has suffered but is too 
much a man to talk about it. This goads 
JAMES only to further indignation, john 
mutters unintelligibly. 

JAMES 

What do you say? What do you say? 

JOHN 

I said that what's done is done and let the past 
bury its dead. 

JAMES 

It is not dead. . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

Don't quarrel — don't quarrel. I cannot bear 
it. . . . 

JAMES 

Mother, we must understand each other — you, 
John, and I — we must see this thing as it 
is. . . . Set aside the fact that this man is 
our father and your husband. . . . We must 
see what he did coldly, dispassionately, and 
judge accordingly. 

JOHN 

I read in a book that no man has the right to 
judge another man . . . 

JAMES 

Facts are facts. . , . 



JAMES AND JOHN 13 

JOHN 

We don't know what drove him to do what he 
did. . . . 

JAMES 

We know — what we know. We know the in- 
jury that he has done to ourselves. We know 
that because our father — because our father 
. . . [mrs. betts now has her face in her 
handkerchief; james is for a moment stopped 
but stiffens himself] because our father 
robbed the cUents of the branch of which he 
was manager in order to keep the women 
whom he had bought . . . 

JOHN 

You . . . [james raises his hand. 

JAMES 

I will end where I have begun. ... It is true 
that he was revered as an upright gentleman, 
that he gave large sums in charity, that he 
did much good for the poor of this district, 
that he did this, that, and the other thing 
which kept him conspicuous as a righteous 
man. . . . We know that he was an excel- 
lent man of business and that the directors 
gave him the opportunity to escape. . . . 
There is that to his credit that he had the 
courage to face the consequences of his 
actions. . . . But even in that he had no 
thought for us, to whom rather than to 
himself his thoughts should have turned. 
. . . We know only too well the shame and 



14 JAMES AND JOHN 

disgrace of the arrest, the infamous revela- 
tions, the position irretrievably lost. . . . 
We know — you and I, John — we know the 
ruin that it has been to us. . . . We have 
seen other men of our own age fulfil their 
lives . . . 

JOHN 

Will you cease. ^ 

JAMES 

We know that we have been chained here, you 
and I, to rot and rot . . . men wasted 
. . . without pride of home or pride of work. 
. . . We have sat here year in, year out, 
waiting, waiting ... for nothing . . . 
knowing that nothing could ever come to 
us. . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

0-o-oh, . . . 

JAMES 

We have suffered enough, I say, and if now that 

he has served his punishment and is free we 

take him under our roof again, to live here 

in this town, with us whom he has so — has 

so — so wrecked, in this town where he is 

still infamous . . . then that which is only 

now whispered of us will be common talk. 

. . . We shall be lower than we have ever 

been and lose all that we have. . . . That is all. 

[He takes a pipe from his pocket, fills it with 

tobacco, lights it, and stalks out of the 

room. MRS. BETTS sobs quietly for a little. 



JAMES AND JOHN 15 

MRS. BETTS 

John, dear — John ... 

JOHN 

[Without moving.] Yes, mother."* 

MRS. BETTS 

He was never a bad man. 

JOHN 

No . . . mother. 

MRS. BETTS 

It must have been bitter for Jamie . . . 

JOHN 

Yes, mother, it has not been . . . easy. 

MRS. BETTS 

He was always a kind man . . . always. . . . 
I don't understand — I never shall under- 
stand what made him do . . . do . . . 
what he did. . . . He ... he used to be so 
fond of children. . . . You don't think 
hardly of him, John.'' . . . 

JOHN 

Not — not for a long time now, mother. 

MRS. BETTS 

I never shall understand what made him do 
. . . because — because he — he never really 
turned from me ... I should have known 
if — if he had done that. . . . Do you 
understand, John.f* 



i6 JAMES AND JOHN 

JOHN 

I am trying, mother 



MRS. BETTS 

He was sometimes impatient with me . . . and 
. . . and I was a fooHsh woman. . . . Such 
a clever man he was. . . . But he never 
turned from me . . . 

JOHN 

No 

MRS. BETTS 

I remember now . . . often . . . when he told 
me. . . . How kind he was . . . and gentle. 
. . . He had been ill and worried for a long 
time, and then one day he came home and 
sat without a word all through the evening. 
... It was raining then. . . . About ten 
o'clock . . . [jOHN is sitting with his head in 
his hands on the sofa between the fire and the 
window] about ten o'clock ... he came and 
kissed me, and told me to go to bed. Then 
he went out. ... I do not know where he 
went, but he came back wet through, cov- 
ered with mud, and his coat was all torn. 
... I was awake when he came back, but 
he spoke no word to me. . . . He came to 
bed and lay trembling and cold. ... I took 
his hand. . . . He shook and he was very 
cold. . . . He — he turned to me like a 
child and sobbed, sobbed. . . . Then, dear, 
he told me what he had done. . . . He told 



JAMES AND JOHN 17 

me that . . . that he had tried — tried to 
do away with himself . , . and — and could 
not. . . . He never asked me to forgive 
him. . . . He told me how the directors had 
asked him to go away to avoid prosecution. 
. . . He said that he must bear his punish- 
ment. . . . He is not a bad man, John. . . . 
Men and women are such strange creatures 
. . . there is never any knowing what they 
will do . . . 

JOHN 

You want him to come back, mother.'' 

MRS. BETTS 

Why, yes. . . . Where else should he go.? . . . 

JOHN 

You know, mother . . . Jamie wanted to be 
married . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

Oh! yes — yes — yes. . . . Poor boy. . . . 

JOHN 

We're men. It has been a long time. We're old 
men . . . now . . . 

[jOHN mends the fire and takes his whisky 
and soda. 

MRS. BETTS 

John, dear . . . [john turns from poking the fire] 
I would like him to have his old chair that 
he used to sit in . . . and his old slippers 



i8 JAMES AND JOHN 

. . . and there's an old pipe that he had — 
in my room . . . you know . . , 

JOHN 

Very well. . . . 

[jOHN goes out. MRS. BETTS sniffs and dries 
her eyes. She takes up her book, reads it 
for a little, then lays it down, takes her 
knitting, plies her needles for a little, then 
lays that down. She fixes her spectacles 
and looks anxiously at the clock on the 
mantelpiece. It has an aggressively loud 
tick. Then she looks towards the window 
and, rising slowly to her feet, shuffles 
across, and looks out. james returns and 
finds her there. 

JAMES 

[Sternly.] I think you should sit quietly and calm 
yourself. 

MRS. BETTS 

Meekly.] Yes, Jamie. 

[She shuffles back to her chair. 

JAMES 

Would you like me to read to you ^ 

MRS. BETTS 

Please, Jamie. 

[jAMES goes to the little dwarf bookcase in the 
recess by the fireplace and takes down a 
book. He moves the table with the back- 
gammon board, and draws up his chair to 



JAMES AND JOHN 19 

the right side of the fireplace, and then sits 
so as to have the light of the lamp on his 
hook. 

JAMES 

[Reading — " Pickwick,'" Chap, xxxii.] " There 
is a repose about Lant Street, in the Borough, 
which sheds a gentle melancholy upon the 
soul. There are always a good many houses 
to let in the street; " 

MRS. BETTS 

Like our street. 

JAMES 

" It is a by-street and its dulness is soothing. A 
house in Lant Street would not come within 
the denomination of a first-rate residence, 
in the strict acceptation of the term; but 
it is a most desirable spot nevertheless. If 
a man wished to abstract himself from the 
world — to remove himself from within 
reach of temptation — to place himself 
beyond the possibility of any inducement to 
look out of the window — he should by all 
means go to Lant Street. 

" Mr. Bob Sawyer embellished one side of the 
fire in his first-floor front, early on the 
evening for which he had invited Mr. Pick- 
wick: and Mr. Ben Allen the other. The 
preparations for the visitors appeared to be 
completed. The umbrellas in the passage 
had been heaped into a little corner outside 
the best parlour door, the bonnet and shawl 



20 JAMES AND JOHN 

of the landlady's servant had been removed 
from the bannisters: there were not more 
than two pairs of pattens on the street door 
mat, and a kitchen candle, with a very long 
snuff, burnt cheerfully on the ledge of the 
staircase window. " Are you listening? 

MRS. BETTS 

Yes, dear. 

JAMES 

" Mr. Bob Sawyer had himself purchased the 
spirits at a wine vaults in High Street and 
had returned home preceding the bearer 
thereof, to preclude the possibility of their 
delivery at the wrong house. The punch 
was ready made in a saucepan in the bed- 
room: " 

[The door is thrown open and john comes 
staggering in with a great chair which he 
places on the left side of the fireplace. He 
takes a pair of red leather slippers from 
his pockets and places them in front of the 
fire to warm. From another pocket he 
produces a pipe and an old tin of tobacco 
and lays them on the mantelpiece, james 
stops in his reading and scowls. The old 
lady starts up in her seat and watches 
John's movements intently, john takes 
not the slightest notice of james but goes 
out of the room again, james opens his 
mouth to speak but decides to go on reading 
as though nothing had happened. 



JAMES AND JOHN 21 

JAMES 

' Notwithstanding the highly satisfactory nature 
of all these arrangements, there was a cloud 
on the countenance of Mr. Bob Sawyer as 
he sat by the fireside. There was a sympa- 
thising expression too in the features of Mr. 
Ben Allen, as he gazed intently on the coals: 
and a tone of melancholy in his voice as he 
said, after a long silence: 
" ' Well, it is unlucky that she should have taken 
it into her head to turn sour, just on this 
occasion. She might at least have waited 
till to-morrow.' " 

[jOHN returns with a glass, a decanter of 
whisky, and a jug of water. These he 
places on the table by his mother's side. 
She looks up at him gratefully, john, « 
little ostentatiously, takes a book and sits 
on the sofa. james shuts "Pickwick " 
and remains gazing into the fire. They 
sit in silence for some time. 

MRS. BETTS 

Is the clock right, John.? 

JOHN 

[Looking at his watch.] A little fast. ... I told 
Jane she might go to bed. I thought it 
better. 

MRS. BETTS 

Yes 

[jOHN is conscious that james is scrutinising 
him narrowly, and becomes a little uneasy. 



22 JAMES AND JOHN 

He sits so that the chair he has brought is 
between himself and his brother. He can 
see his mother from this position. They 
sit again in silence for some time, 

MRS. BETTS 

There was a funeral in the street to-day. Quite 
a grand affair. . . . [Silence.] There have 
been quite a number of deaths in the district 
lately. . . . [Silence.] They go on having 
babies, though ... I wonder why . . . 
[Silence.] I suppose everything happens for 
the best. . . . [Her prattle becomes intoler- 
able to JAMES, who springs to his feet and walks 
furiously up and down the room. He sub- 
sides finally, having scared her into silence, and 
they sit mum while the aggressive clock tick- 
ticks, and faint noises from the street come into 
the room — the sound of wheels on cobble- 
stones, of whistling hoys, of a street-brawl. 
Then comes the boom of a great distant clock 
striking ten.] That's the Town Hall. When 
you hear it so clearly as that it means rain. 

[Silence again. The bell of the house is 
heard to tinkle, john leaps to his feet 
and goes from the room. mrs. betts 
starts up trembling and fearful, james 
sits bolt upright and stern in his chair. 
They both turn and watch the door, 
JOHN returns alofie. 



Only the post. 
Anything for me? 



JAMES AND JOHN 

JOHN 

JAMES 
JOHN 



No; for me. . . . 

[He reads his letter and throws it in the fire. 
JAMES and MRS. betts subside into their 
former attitudes, john returns to the sofa 
and takes up his hook again. 

MRS. betts 
Who was it from, John.^* 

JOHN 

It was nothing of any consequence. 

[They relapse into silence. 

JAMES 

It is past your bed-time, mother, [mrs. betts 
takes no notice.] It is past ten o'clock 
mother. . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

I know. . . . [They are silent again, james 
falls to plucking his beard, and mrs. betts to 
watching him.] How like you are to your 
father, James! ... I suppose that is^why 
you could never get on together. . . , 

[james winces, hut ignores the remark. 



24 JAMES AND JOHN 

JOHN 

I think, mother, if we agreed not to talk it would 
be easier for all of us. . . . 

MRS. BETTS 

Very well, John . . . only — I — I couldn't bear 
the silence. . . . 

[jAMES opens ^^Pickwick " again and pre- 
tends to he absorbed. 

JOHN 

If you would read, Jamie . . . 

JAMES 

She does not listen . . . [mrs. betts has caught 
the sound of something outside the house. 
She turns and looks, half in fear, half in eager- 
ness, towards the window. She lifts her hand 
and seems to point in that direction. The 
house hell is heard again, john looks up, 
sees her agitation, and comes to soothe her. 
He moves towards the door, and has reached it 
when JAMES shakes himself and holds up a 
hand.] Stop! [john turns.] I will go. 

JOHN 

I beg your pardon. / will go. 

[He opens the door and goes out. james 
assumes a commanding attitude by the 
fireplace, mrs. betts turns and watches 
the door. She hears murmurs of voices, 



JAMES AND JOHN 25 

and, rising to her feet, begins to shuffle 
towards the door. 

JAMES 

[Without looking at her; in a firm, quiet voice.] 
Mother — sit down. [He never takes his 
eyes from the door. mrs. betts stands turn- 
ing piteously between his command and her 
instinctive incBiation. Then slowly she re- 
turns and subsides into her chair, but never 
takes her eyes from the door. mrs. betts 
begins to whimper.] Tssh! Tssh! 

[The door slowly opens and john comes in, 
grave, solemn. He holds the door open and 
presently mr. betts comes in. He is a 
big man, but a broken and a wretched; and 
yet there is a fine dignity in him. He 
stands by the door for some moments, his 
eyes fixed on his wife. He comes towards 
her slowly as though he were afraid, were 
not sure; that breaks in him, and he 
stumbles towards her and kisses her. 



Wife 



betts 

[She breaks into a little moaning cry, fondles, 
and kisses his hand. john comes and 
stands behind them. mr. betts turns from 
his wife to james and holds out his hand. 
JAMES bows stiffly, and for a moment 
there is silence. The old antagonism 
leaps in both. 



26 JAMES AND JOHN 

JAMES 

[With stiff dignity.] You are welcome, sir. . . . 
[mr. betts stretches to his full height and 
hows with a dignity no less stiff than that 
of his son. james stands cold, while the 
other three are grouped together. mrs. 
betts tugs at her husband's hand. 

MRS. betts 
Your chair, dear . . . John brought it down for 
you. . . . 

[mr. betts moves and sits in the chair by 
the fireplace, james waits for a little and 
then, without a word, sits in his chair. 
JOHN brings up a chair and sits between 
his mother and father, nearer to his 
mother. They sit so in awkward silence, 
during which mr. betts turns his eyes 
from one to another of his family, james 
alone does not look at his father, btit 
studiously away from him. john turns 
and mixes a glass of whisky and water 
for his father. This the old man takes 
gladly. He is reminded that he is cold by 
this attention, and shivers. He holds out 
a hand towards the blazing ffre, then 
finds JAMES looking at it vindictively and 
withdraws it hastily. 

JOHN 

Your sHppers are there. . . . [mr. betts takes 
off his hoots and gives them to john, who takes 
them out of the room.] Will you . . . smoke.'' 



JAMES AND JOHN 27 

MR. BETTS 

Thank you. [He takes his old pipe and tobacco 
and lights, looking at james the while. He 
blows out a cloud of smoke gratefully. He 
thrusts out a leg towards the fire.] The value 
of tobacco is best appreciated when it is 
the last you possess and there is no chance 
of getting more. . . . Bismarck said that 

MRS. BETTS 

[PFho has been weeping quietly.] I think — I 
think I must go to — to bed. [She rises 
to her feet and shuffles slowly over to her hus- 
band. She bends over him and kisses him, 
and with her weak old hands pats his cheek.] 
I — I hope you are not wet, dear. ... It 
must be raining terribly. . . . 

[She shuffles over to james, kisses him, and 
JOHN sees her to the door, then comes 
back and sits in her chair, mr. betts has 
watched his wife with burning eyes as she 
moved. 

MR. betts 

How long.^ How long.? 

JAMES 

[Icily.] It is six months since she was out of 
doors. ... It is almost six years since she 
has been well enough to stay away from 
. . . from home. . . . 



28 JAMES AND JOHN 

[mr. betts draws the back oj his hand over 
his eyes. 

JOHN 

Be just, James, be just. 

JAMES 

[In the same hard monotone.] It is twelve years 
since we came to this house in this melan- 
choly street. ... In this room she has sat, 
day in, day out, year in, year out. . . . Day 
by day we have set out, I for the bank, John 
there for his ofhce. . . . Year by year we 
have known that there was nothing to be 
done . . . that we must sacrifice everything 
to her. . . . We have known that. . . . We 
have known that we could bring her nothing, 
that she could bring us nothing. . . . There 
she sat . . . 

[mr. betts sits with bowed head, offering no 
protest. 

JOHN 

Be just, James, be just. . . . She has been wait- 
ing for this day . . . 

JAMES 

[Ignoring him.] We have known that such an 
existence was futile . . . sterile. . . . We 
have all been . . . prisoners. 

JOHN 

Shame on you ... 



JAMES AND JOHN 29 

JAMES 

I have told you in my letter the terms on which 
I bid you welcome to my house. . . . What 
have you to say? 

[mr. betts looks at john, theyi to james. 
Their eyes meet and for a moment they 
are man to man, enmity between them, the 
man judging and the man being judged. 
A little nervous laugh escapes from mr. 
BETTS. He puts up his hand to the place 
where his wife kissed him and caressed 
his face, and his eyes follow her slow path 
to the door. He shrugs, seems to shrink. 
He flings up his hands. 

MR. BETTS 

Nothing. . . . There is nothing to say. . . . We 
are all so ... so old . . . 

{There is a silence. The clock ticks more 
wickedly than ever, james and john sit 
with bowed heads. 

JOHN 

[To his father.] Shall I show you your room.^ 

MR. BETTS 

Thank you, John. 

[james rises, goes to the door, and opens it. 
As JOHN and mr. betts reach the door, 
JAMES holds out his hand to his father. 



30 JAMES AND JOHN 

JAMES 

Good night — father. 

MR. BETTS 

Good night, James. 

[jOHN and MR. BETTS gO OUt. JAMES pUtS 

out the light and follows. 

CURTAIN 



Repertory 
Plays 



The plays in this group are intended for stage pro- 
duction and have satisfied highly critical and fastidious 
audiences. 

Some modern plays are good reading. That so 
many of the Repertory Plays gain, rather than lose, 
on the printed page is a tribute to their literary merit, 
style, and construction. 

Unless otherwise stated, the Repertory Plays are in 
one act. 

6x4 inches, wrappers, net 40 cents each. 

Baker, Elizabeth 

Miss Tassey 
Brighouse, Harold 
Converts 
Lonesome-Like 
Maid of France 
Price of Coal, The 

Calderon, George 

Fountain, The (three acts) 
Little Stone House, The 

Cannan, Gilbert 
James and John 
Mary's Wedding 
Miles Dixon (two acts) 
Short Way with Authors, A 

Chapin, Harold 

Augustus in Search of a Father 
Autocrat of the Coffee-Stall, The 
Dumb and the Blind, The 
Muddle Annie 

CoLQUHouN, Donald 
Jean 



REPERTORY PLAYS 



Down, Oliphant 

Maker of Dreams, The 

Also in large paper edition, with incidental music 
by Beatrice Patterson. Cloth, $i.oo. 

Egerton, Lady Alex. 

Masque of the Two Strangers, The 

Everyman 

A morality play 

Ferguson, J. A. 

Campbell of Kihlmor 

GwEN, John 

Luck of War 
The Shepherd 

KONI, TORAHIKO 

Kanawa: The Incantation 

Maeterlinck, Maurice 
AUadine and Palomides 
Death of Tintagiles, The 
Interior 
Intruder, The 

Maxwell, W. B. 

The Last Man In 

Palmer, John 

Over the Hills 

Price, Graham 

Absolution of Bruce, The 

Capture of Wallace, The 

Coming of Fair Anne, The 

Marriages are Made in Heaven and Elsewhere 

Perfect Housekeeper, The 

Song of the Seal, The 

Published by LE ROY PHILLIPS, Boston 



